


Self-Control

by Lefaym



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (2009)
Genre: M/M, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-02
Updated: 2010-05-02
Packaged: 2017-10-09 06:23:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lefaym/pseuds/Lefaym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holmes is proud of his self-control, but it's not always so easy to maintain when he's living with Watson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Self-Control

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Miss Winterhill for the beta.

Sherlock Holmes prided himself on his self-control. Naturally, the casual observer—the sort that would look without seeing—would not recognise this trait. Such an observer would note the clutter of his rooms, but fail to perceive the order that lay beneath it all. He might express wonder that Holmes kept his tobacco in the toe of his slipper, but he would not understand that the tobacco was there because it was exactly where Holmes intended it to be.

Bodily control, above all, was essential to Holmes' work. He could not, after all, allow his rational mind to be distracted by such trifles as food and sexual desires; he could not allow a craving for oysters or a surge of lust for the sturdy young man walking past the window to engage his attention. If he ever did indulge, it was to improve his mind, to stimulate it; his music, his cocaine. Matters of the body were only to be acknowledged when absolutely necessary.

Of course, that's what made living with John Watson so damnably irritating.

When they'd first met—the day they'd agreed to take rooms together—Holmes had known that he was facing a challenge. There was no denying that the man was attractive; his way of holding himself, as though always ready for action, his handsome face tempered by a pleasing (though undeveloped) curiosity—all of it seemed especially designed to entice Holmes. And Holmes had welcomed it, because after all, overcoming this hurdle would prove once and for all that temptations of the flesh no longer had any hold over him.

Unfortunately, Holmes had not at all counted on the way that Watson would lean against the bookcase, the cut of his waistcoat outlining his form so very perfectly; an unforgiveable oversight on his part. Nor had he anticipated the way that Watson's lips would part so very beautifully when Holmes played for him upon the violin; it was rather too easy to imagine those lips wrapped around his cock, and that was just insupportable. As a remedy, he thought to include Watson in on some of his cases—because surely, if he associated Watson with work, with the process of deduction itself, it would elevate him above the physical sphere in Holmes' mind—but that proved thoroughly disastrous. Holmes found that he enjoyed Watson's incredulous expressions and his subsequent admiration far, far too much.

And so, with increasing frequency, Holmes found himself locked within his room, his hand clasped firmly around his prick as he resumed the habit he'd believed cured during his time at University. He kept his face utterly still throughout most of the process; that much control, at least, was still within his grasp—at least until that final moment when that searing heat in his groin would rise to its climax, and his seed would spill into his palm. In those moments, Holmes could not suppress the shuddering cry that would rise from his lips, and though he would curse himself for it, he could not prevent his hips rising from the mattress, as he imagined Watson above him, sharing in his release.

In the moments afterwards, Holmes consoled himself by reasoning that, if he had to fail in this respect, it was at least a failure that gave him ample opportunity to use himself as the subject of his own experiments; the interaction of human physiology and psychology was an interesting field, after all, and certainly it had some application in the detective arts. With a sigh, he resigned himself to his loss of self-control; after all, if it was done in the pursuit of knowledge, then surely he could forgive himself. Perhaps, he thought, in the name of science, he should even force himself to spend a little more time in Watson's company.


End file.
